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Kendall would make a beautiful bride.

Hell, she already looks like one today in her white sundress.

“Well, I know you two have a lot to think about,” Julia says. “For now, why don’t we head over to the bakery where you can taste some of our cakes?”

The bakery should have exactly what I need for tomorrow.

“That sounds wonderful,” Kendall remarks. “All of this walking around has worked up my appetite.”

She smiles at me but it’s thinner than usual.

Is she really not going to say a word about tomorrow?

Kendall

The smell of vanilla is a sweet welcome when we step through the bakery door. There are several small tables of customers eating donuts, eclairs, and…pretty cupcakes. Only one table is unoccupied, and it has a reserved sign on it.

“Have a seat and I’ll let the baker, Isobel, know you’re here,” Julia instructs us.

“Thank you,” I tell her before gladly sitting down and getting off my aching feet. The shoes I bought with the outfits are cute, but not great for walking two miles around the island.

“Your feet are hurting from the ridiculous shoes, aren’t they?” Monty guesses after I let out a soft sigh.

“Yes.”

“Well, after this, you can have Monty rub them for you. Or the masseuse,” his mom remarks as she takes the seat across from me.

“Oh, right. Our couple’s massage. I can’t wait!”

It’ll be the first time I get to see my boss dressed down to his skin.

Something I’ve imagined plenty of times but never experienced.

A few minutes later, a woman in a white apron comes out from the back with Julia, carrying a tray of tiny little cake squares. “I’ll leave you in Isobel’s hands for now,” Julia says. “Give me a call if you need anything this weekend.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” I tell her, feeling bad that we wasted her weekend on a wedding that will never happen.

“Welcome,” Isobel says. “I’ve prepared a few of our most popular cakes for you to try. If there’s something that you want but don’t see, let me know and I’ll try to make it work for your big day.”

I’m already digging into one of the cakes before she finishes talking.

“Oh my gosh,” I moan. “Monty, you have to try this.” Without thinking, I hold up the piece to his mouth. He actually opens without hesitation, so I feed the bite to him. And as he takes it, a hint of his soft lips and warm tongue brushes my fingertips, setting off tiny fireworks inside me, ones that settle low in my belly.

Bad idea.

So very, very bad.

And yet. I do it again.

“Oh, I love this one. I think it’s my favorite.”

This time, Monty’s eyes meet mine as he tastes the sample. Strawberry lemonade.

And I can’t figure out if he licked the tip of my finger intentionally or not when I take too long to pull away.

“That one is delicious,” he agrees as his tongue wets his lips while still watching me. I watch the move with rapt attention. What would his lips feel like on mine? How would he taste?

“So, we have a winner?” his mom asks, snapping me out of my pointless daydreaming.